SWEET MARJORAM,seeMarjoram.

[286:1]"It is the juice of certain canes or reedes whiche growe most plentifully in the Ilandes of Madera, Sicilia, Cyprus, Rhodus and Candy. It is made by art in boyling of the Canes, much like as they make their white salt in the Witches in Cheshire."—Coghan,Haven of Health, 1596, p. 110.

[287:1]"Babee's Book," xxx.

[287:2]It is mentioned by Chaucer—"Gyngerbred that was so fyn.And licorys and eek comynWith Sugre that is trye."—Tale of Sir Thopas.

[287:2]It is mentioned by Chaucer—

"Gyngerbred that was so fyn.And licorys and eek comynWith Sugre that is trye."—Tale of Sir Thopas.

In its botanical relationship, the Sycamore is closely allied to the Maple, and was often called the Great Maple, and is still so called in Scotland. It is not indigenous in Great Britain, but it has long been naturalized among us, and has taken so kindly to our soil and climate that it is one of our commonest trees. It is one of the best of forest trees for resisting wind; it "scorns to be biassed in its mode of growth even by the prevailing wind, but shooting its branches with equal boldness in every direction, shows no weatherside to the storm, and may be broken, but never can be bended."-Old Mortality, c. i.

The history of the name is curious. The Sycomore, or Zicamine tree of the Bible and of Theophrastus and Dioscorides, is the Fig-mulberry, a large handsome tree indigenous in Africa and Syria, and largely planted, partly for the sake of its fruit, and especially for the delicious shade it gives. With this tree the early English writers were not acquainted, but they found the name in the Bible, and applied it to any shade-giving tree. Thus in Ælfric's Vocabulary in the tenth century it is given to the Aspen—"Sicomorus vel celsa æps." Chaucer gives the name to some hedge shrub, but he probably used it for any thick shrub, without any very special distinction—

"The hedge also that yedde in compasAnd closed in all the greene herbereWith Sicamour was set and Eglateere,Wrethen in fere so well and cunninglyThat every branch and leafe grew by measurePlaine as a bord, of an height by and by."

The Flower and the Leaf.

Our Sycamore would be very ill suited to make the sides and roof of an arbour, but before the time of Shakespeare it seems certain that the name was attached to our present tree, and it is so called by Gerard and Parkinson.

The Sycamore is chiefly planted for its rapid growth rather than for its beauty. It becomes a handsome tree when fully grown, but as a young tree it is stiff and heavy, and at all times it is so infested with honeydew as to make it unfit for planting on lawns or near paths. It grows well in the north, where other trees will not well flourish, and "we frequently meet with the tree apart in the fields, or unawares in remote localities amidst the Lammermuirs and the Cheviots, where it is the surviving witness of the former existence of a hamlet there. Hence to the botanical rambler it has a more melancholy character than the Yew. It throws him back on past days, when he who planted the tree was the owner of the land and of the Hall, and whose name and race are forgotten even by tradition. . . . And there is reasonable pride in the ancestry when a grove of old gentlemanly Sycamores still shadows the Hall."—Johnston.But these old Sycamores were not planted only for beauty: they were sometimes planted for a very unpleasant use. "They were used by the most powerful barons in the West of Scotland for hanging their enemies and refractory vassals on, and for this reason were calleddoolor grief trees. Of these there are three yet standing, the most memorable being one near the fine old castle of Cassilis, one of the seats of the Marquis of Ailsa, on the banks of the River Doon. It was used by the family of Kennedy, who were the most powerful barons of the West of Scotland, for the purpose above mentioned."—Johns.

The wood of the Sycamore is useful for turning and a few other purposes, but is not very durable. The sap, as in all the Maples, is full of sugar, and the pollen is very curious; "it appears globular in the microscope, but if it be touched with anything moist, the globules burst open with four valves, and then they appear in the form of a cross."—Miller.

Thistle is the old English name for a large family of plants occurring chiefly in Europe and Asia, of which we have fourteen species in Great Britain, arranged under the botanical families of Carlina, Carduus, and Onopordon. It is the recognized symbol of untidiness and carelessness, being found not so much in barren ground as in good ground not properly cared for. So good a proof of a rich soil does the Thistle give, that a saying is attributed to a blind man who was choosing a piece of land—"Take me to a Thistle;" and Tusser says—

"Much wetnes, hog-rooting, and land out of hart makes Thistles a number foorthwith to upstart. If Thistles so growing proove lustie and long, It signifieth land to be hartie and strong."

October's Husbandry(13).

If the Thistles were not so common, and if we could get rid of the associations they suggest, there are probably few of our wild plants that we should more admire: they are stately in their foliage and habit, and some of their flowers are rich in colour, and the Thistledown, which carries the seed far and wide, is very beautiful, and was once considered useful as a sign of rain, for "if the down flyeth off Coltsfoot, Dandelyon, or Thistles when there is no winde, it is a signe of rain."—Coles.

It had still another use in rustic divination—

"Upon the various earth's embroidered gown,There is a weed upon whose head grows down,Sow Thistle 'tis y'clept, whose downy wreathIf anyone can blow off at a breathWe deem her for a maid."—Browne'sBrit. Past., i, 4.

But it is owing to these pretty Thistledowns that the plant becomes a most undesirable neighbour, for they carry the seed everywhere, and wherever it is carried, it soon vegetates, and a fine crop of Thistles very quickly follows. Inthis way, if left to themselves, the Thistles will soon monopolize a large extent of country, to the extinction of other plants, as they have done in parts of the American prairies, and as they did in Australia, till a most stringent Act of Parliament was passed about twenty years ago, imposing heavy penalties upon all who neglected to destroy the Thistles on their land. For these reasons we cannot admit the Thistle into the garden, at least not our native Thistles; but there are some foreigners which may well be admitted. There are the handsome yellow Thistles of the South of Europe (Scolymus), which besides their beauty have a classical interest. "Hesiod elegantly describing the time of year, says,

ἠμος δε σκολυμος τ'ανθει,

when the Scolymus flowers,i.e., in hot weather or summer ("Op. et dies," 582). This plant crowned with its golden flowers is abundant throughout Sicily."—Hogg'sClassical Plants of Sicily. There is the Fish-bone Thistle (Chamæpeuce diacantha) from Syria, a very handsome plant, and, like most of the Thistles, a biennial; but if allowed to flower and go to seed, it will produce plenty of seedlings for a succession of years. And there is a grand scarlet Thistle from Mexico, the Erythrolena conspicua ("Sweet," vol. ii. p. 134), which must be almost the handsomest of the family, and which was grown in England fifty years ago, but has been long lost. There are many others that may deserve a place as ornamental plants, but they find little favour, for "they are only Thistles."

Any notice of the Thistle would be imperfect without some mention of the Scotch Thistle. It is the one point in the history of the plant that protects it from contempt. We dare not despise a plant which is the honoured badge of our neighbours and relations, the Scotch; which is ennobled as the symbol of the Order of the Thistle, that claims to be the most ancient of all our Orders of high honour; and which defies you to insult it or despise it by its proud mottoes, "Nemo me impune lacessit," "Ce que Dieu garde, est bien gardé." What is the true Scotch Thistle even the Scotch antiquarians cannot decide, and in the uncertainty it is perhaps safest to say that no Thistle in particular can claimthe sole honour, but that it extends to every member of the family that can be found in Scotland.[292:1]

Shakespeare has noticed the love of the bee for the Thistle, and it seems that it is for other purposes than honey gathering that he finds the Thistle useful. For "a beauty has the Thistle, when every delicate hair arrests a dew-drop on a showery April morning, and when the purple blossom of a roadside Thistle turns its face to Heaven and welcomes the wild bee, who lies close upon its flowerets on the approach of some storm cloud until its shadow be past away. For with unerring instinct the bee well knows that the darkness is but for a moment, and that the sun will shine out again ere long."—Lady Wilkinson.

[292:1]See an interesting and fanciful account of the fitness of the Thistle as the emblem of Scotland in Ruskin's "Proserpina," pp. 135-139.

Thorns and Thistles are the typical emblems of desolation and trouble, and so Shakespeare uses them; and had he spoken of Thorns in this sense only, I should have beendoubtful as to admitting them among his other plants, but as in some of the passages they stand for the Hawthorn tree and the Rose bush, I could not pass them by altogether. They might need no further comment beyond referring for further information about them toHawthorn,Briar,Rose, andBramble; but in speaking of the Bramble I mentioned the curious legend which tells why the Bramble employs itself in collecting wool from every stray sheep, and there is another very curious instance in Blount's "Antient Tenures" of a connection between Thorns and wool. The original document is given in Latin, and is dated 39th Henry III. It may be thus translated: "Peter de Baldwyn holds in Combes, in the county of Surrey, by the service to go a wool gathering for our Lady the Queen among the White Thorns, and if he refuses to gather it he shall pay into the Treasury of our Lord the King xxs. per annum." I should almost suspect a false reading, as the editor is inclined to do, but that many other services, equally curious and improbable, may easily be found.

It is one of the most curious of the curiosities of English plant names that the Wild Thyme—a plant so common and so widely distributed, and that makes itself so easily known by its fine aromatic, pungent scent, that it is almost impossible to pass it by without notice—has yet no English name, and seems never to have had one. Thyme is the Anglicised form of the Greek and LatinThymum, which name it probably got from its use for incense in sacrifices, while its other name ofserpyllumpointed out its creeping habit. I do not know when the word Thyme was firstintroduced into the English language, for it is another curious point connected with the name, thatthymumdoes not occur in the old English vocabularies. We have in Ælfric's "Vocabulary," "Pollegia, hyl-wyrt," which may perhaps be the Thyme, though it is generally supposed to be the Pennyroyal; we have in a Vocabulary of thirteenth century, "Epitime, epithimum, fordboh," which also may be the Wild Thyme; we have in a Vocabulary of the fifteenth century, "Hoc sirpillum, Acepetergrys;" and in a Pictorial Vocabulary of the same date, "Hoc cirpillum, Acea pellek" (which word is probably a misprint, for in the "Promptorium Parvulorum," c. 1440, it is "Peletyr, herbe,serpillum piretrum"), both of which are almost certainly the Wild Thyme; while in an Anglo-Saxon Vocabulary of the tenth or eleventh century we have "serpulum, crop-leac,"i.e., the Onion, which must certainly be a mistake of the compiler. So that not even in its Latin form does the name occur, except in the "Promptorium Parvulorum," where it is "Tyme, herbe,Tima,Timum—Tyme, floure,Timus;" and in the "Catholicon Anglicum," when it is "Tyme;timum epitimum; flos ejus est." It is thus a puzzle how it can have got naturalized among us, for in Shakespeare's time it was completely naturalized.

I have already quoted Lord Bacon's account of it underBurnet, but I must quote it again here: "Those flowers which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are three—that is Burnet, Wild Thyme, and Water mints; therefore you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread;" and again in his pleasant description of the heath or wild garden, which he would have in every "prince-like garden," and "framed as much as may be to a natural wildness," he says, "I like also little heaps, in the nature of mole-hills (such as are in wild heaths) to be set some with Wild Thyme, some with Pinks, some with Germander." Yet the name may have been used sometimes as a general name for any wild, strong-scented plant. It can only be in this sense that Milton used it—

"Thee, shepherd! thee the woods and desert caves,With Wild Thyme and the gadding Vine o'ergrown,And all their echoes mourn."

Lycidas.

for certainly a desert cave is almost the last place in which we should look for the true Wild Thyme.

It is as a bee-plant especially that the Thyme has always been celebrated. Spenser speaks of it as "the bees alluring Tyme," and Ovid says of it, speaking of Chloris or Flora—

"Mella meum munus; volucres ego mella daturosAd violam et cytisos, et Thyma cana voco."

Fasti, v.

so that the Thyme became proverbial as the symbol of sweetness. It was the highest compliment that the shepherd could pay to his mistress—

"Nerine Galatea, Thymo mihi dulcior Hyblæ."

Virgil,Ecl.vii.

And it was because of its wild Thyme that Mount Hymettus became so celebrated for its honey—"Mella Thymi redolentia flore" (Ovid). "Thyme, for the time it lasteth, yeeldeth most and best honni, and therefore in old time was accounted chief (Thymus aptissimus ad mellificum—Pastus gratissimus apibus Thymum est—Plinii, 'His. Nat.')

'Dum thymo pascentur apes, dum rore cicadæ.'

Virgil,Georg.

Hymettus in Greece and Hybla in Sicily were so famous for Bees and Honni, because there grew such store of Tyme; propter hoc Siculum mel fert palmam, quod ibi Thymum bonum et frequens est."—Varro,The Feminine Monarchie, 1634.

The Wild Thyme can scarcely be considered a garden plant, except in its variegated and golden varieties, which are very handsome, but if it should ever come naturally in the turf, it should be welcomed and cherished for its sweet scent. The garden Thyme (T. vulgaris) must of course be in every herb garden; and there are a few species which make good plants for the rockwork, such as T. lanceolatus from Greece, a very low-growing shrub, with narrow, pointed leaves; T. carnosus, which makes a pretty little shrub, and others; while the Corsican Thyme (Mentha Requieni) is perhaps the lowest and closest-growing of all herbs, making a dark-green covering to the soil, and having a very strong scent, though more resembling Peppermint than Thyme.

The Turnips of Shakespeare's time were like ours, and probably as good, though their cultivation seems to have been chiefly confined to gardens. It is not very certain whether the cultivated Turnip is the wild Turnip improved in England by cultivation, or whether we are indebted for it to the Romans, and that the wild one is only the degenerate form of the cultivated plant; for though the wild Turnip is admitted into the English flora, yet its right to the admission is very doubtful. But if we did not get the vegetable from the Romans we got its name. The old name for it wasnœp,nep, orneps, which was only the English form of the Latinnapus, while Turnip is the corruption ofterræ napus, but when the first syllable was added I do not know. There is a curious perversion in the name, for our Turnip is botanically Brassica rapa, while the Rape is Brassica napus, so that the English and Latin have changed places, the Napus becoming a Rape and the Rapa a Nep.

The present large field cultivation of Turnips is of comparatively a modern date, though the field Turnip and garden Turnip are only varieties of the same species, while there are also many varieties both of the field and garden Turnip. "One field proclaims the Scotch variety, while the bluer cast tells its hardy Swedish origin; the tankard proclaims a deep soil, and the lover of boiled mutton, rejoicing, sees the yellower tint of the Dutch or Stone Turnip, which he desires to meet with again in the market."—Phillips.

It is not very easy to speak of the moral qualities of Turnips, or to make them the symbols of much virtue, yet Gwillim did so: "He beareth sable, a Turnip proper, achief or gutte de Larmes. This is a wholesome root, and yieldeth great relief to the poor, and prospereth best in a hot sandy ground, and may signifie a person of good disposition, whose vertuous demeanour flourisheth most prosperously, even in that soil, where the searching heat of envy most aboundeth. This differeth much in nature from that whereof it is said, 'And that there should not be among you any root that bringeth forth gall and wormwood.'"—Gwillim'sHeraldry, sec. iii. c. 11.

The cultivated Vetch (Vicia sativa) is probably not a British plant, and it is not very certain to what country it rightly belongs; but it was very probably introduced into England by the Romans as an excellent and easily-grown fodder-plant. There are several Vetches that are true British plants, and they are among the most beautiful ornaments of our lanes and hedges. Two especially deserve to take a place in the garden for their beauty; but they require watching, or they will scramble into parts where their presence is not desirable; these are V. cracca and V. sylvatica. V. cracca has a very bright pure blue flower, and may be allowed to scramble over low bushes; V. sylvatica is a tall climber, and may be seen in copses and high hedges climbing to the tops of the Hazels and other tall bushes. It is one of the most graceful of our British plants, and perhaps quite the most graceful of our climbers; it bears an abundance of flowers, which are pure white streaked and spotted with pale blue; it is not a very common plant, but I have often seen it in Gloucestershire and Somersetshire, and wherever it is found it is generally in abundance.

The other name for the Vetch is Tares, which is, no doubt, an old English word that has never been satisfactorily explained. The word has an interest from its biblicalassociations, though modern scholars decide that the Zizania is wrongly translated Tares, and that it is rather a bastard Wheat or Darnel.

Besides these different references to the Grape Vine, some of its various products are mentioned, as Raisins, wine, aquavitæ or brandy, claret (the "thin potations" forsworn by Falstaff), sherris-sack or sherry, and malmsey. But none of these passages gives us much insight into the culture of the Vine in England, the whole history of which is curious and interesting.

The Vine is not even a native of Europe, but of the East, whence it was very early introduced into Europe; so early, indeed, that it has recently been found "fossil in a tufaceous deposit in the South of France."—Darwin.It was no doubt brought into England by the Romans. Tacitus, describing England in the first century after Christ, says expressly that the Vine did not, and, as he evidently thought, could not grow there. "Solum, præter oleam vitemque et cætera calidioribus terris oriri sueta, patiens frugum, fæcundum." Yet Bede, writing in the eighth century, describes England as "opima frugibus atque arboribus insula, et alendis apta pecoribus et jumentis Vineas etiam quibusdam in locis germinans."[301:1]

From that time till the time of Shakespeare there is abundant proof not only of the growth of the Vine as we now grow it in gardens, but in large Vineyards. In Anglo-Saxon times "a Vineyard" is not unfrequently mentioned in various documents. "Edgar gives the Vineyard situatedat Wecet, with the Vine-dressers."—Turner'sAnglo-Saxons. "'Domesday Book' contained thirty-eight entries of valuable Vineyards; one in Essex consisted of six acres, and yielded twenty hogsheads of wine in a good year. There was another of the same extent at Ware."—H. Evershed, inGardener's Chronicle. So in the Norman times, "Giraldus Cambrensis, speaking of the Castle of Manorbeer (his birthplace), near Pembroke, said that it had under its walls, besides a fishpond, a beautiful garden, enclosed on one side by a Vineyard and on the other by a wood, remarkable for the projection of its rocks and the height of its Hazel trees. In the twelfth century Vineyards were not uncommon in England."—Wright.Neckam, writing in that century, refers to the usefulness of the Vine when trained against the wall-front: "Pampinus latitudine suâ excipit æris insultus, cum res ita desiderat, et fenestra clementiam caloris solaris admittat."—Hudson Turner.

In the time of Shakespeare I suppose that most of the Vines in England were grown in Vineyards of more or less extent, trained to poles. These formed the "pole-clipt Vineyards" of No.21, and are thus described by Gerard: "The Vine is held up with poles and frames of wood, and by that means it spreadeth all about and climbeth aloft; it joyneth itselfe unto trees, or whatsoever standeth next unto it"—in other words, the Vine was then chiefly grown as a standard in the open ground.

There are numberless notices in the records and chronicles of extensive vineyards in England, which it is needless to quote; but it is worth noticing that the memory of these Vineyards remains not only in the chronicles and in the treatises which teach of Vine-culture, but also in the names of streets, &c., which are occasionally met with. There is "Vineyard Holm," in the Hampshire Downs, and many other places in Hampshire; the "Vineyard Hills," at Godalming; the "Vines," at Rochester and Sevenoaks; the "Vineyards," at Bath and Ludlow; the "Vine Fields," near the Abbey at Bury St. Edmunds;[302:1]the "VineyardWalk" in Clerkenwell; and "near Basingstoke the 'Vine' or 'Vine House,' in a richly wooded spot, where, as is said, the Romans grew the first Vine in Britain, the memory of which now only survives in the Vine Hounds;"[303:1]and probably a closer search among the names of fields in other parts would bring to light many similar instances.[303:2]

Among the English Vineyards those of Gloucestershire stood pre-eminent. William of Malmesbury, writing of Gloucestershire in the twelfth century, says: "This county is planted thicker with Vineyards than any other in England, more plentiful in crops, and more pleasant in flavour. For the wines do not offend the mouth with sharpness, since they do not yield to the French in sweetness" ("De Gestis Pontif.," book iv.) Of these Vineyards the tradition still remains in the county. The Cotswold Hills are in many places curiously marked with a succession of steps or narrow terraces, called "litchets" or "lynches;" these are traditionally the sites of the old Vineyards, but the tradition cannot be fully depended on, and the formation of the terraces has been variously accounted for. By some they are supposed to be natural formations, but wherever I have seen them they appear to me too regular and artificial; nor, as far as I am aware, does the oolite, on which formation these terraces mostly occur, take the form of a succession of narrow terraces. It seems certain that the ground was artificially formed into these terraces with very little labour, and that they were utilized for some special cultivation, and as likely for Vines as for any other.[303:3]It is also certain that as the Gloucestershire Vineyards were among the most ancient and the best in England, so they held their ground till within a very recent period. I cannot find the exact date, but some time during the last century there is "satisfactory testimony of the full success of a plantation in Cromhall Park, from which ten hogsheads of wine were made in the year. The Vine plantation was discontinued or destroyed in consequence of a dispute with the Rector on a claim of the tythes."—Rudge'sHistory of Gloucestershire. This, however, is not quite the latest notice I have met with, for Phillips, writing in 1820, says: "There are several flourishing Vineyards at this time in Somersetshire; the late Sir William Basset, in that county, annually made some hogsheads of wine, which was palatable and well-bodied. The idea that we cannot make good wine from our own Grapes is erroneous; I have tasted it quite equal to the Grave wines, and in some instances, when kept for eight or ten years, it has been drunk as hock by the nicest judges."—Pomarium Britannicum.It would have been more satisfactory if Mr. Phillips had told us the exact locality of any of these "flourishing Vineyards," for I can nowhere else find any account of them, except that in a map of five miles round Bath in 1801 a Vineyard is marked at Claverton, formerly in the possession of the Bassets, and the Vines are distinctly shown.[304:1]At present the experiment is again being tried by the Marquis of Bute, at Castle Coch, near Cardiff, to establish a Vineyard, not to produce fruit for the market, but to produce wine; and as both soil and climate seem very suitable, there can be little doubt that wine will be produced of a very fair character. Whether it will be a commercial success is more doubtful, but probably that is not of much consequence.

I have dwelt at some length on the subject of the English Vineyards, because the cultivation of the Vine in Vineyards, like the cultivation of the Saffron, is a curious instance of an industry foreign to the soil introduced, and apparently for many years successful,[304:2]and then entirely, or almost, given up. The reasons for the cessation of the English Vineyards are not far to seek. Some have attributed it to a change in the seasons, and have supposed that our summers were formerly hotter than they are now, bringing as a proof the Vineyards and English-made wine of other days. This was Parkinson's idea. "Our yeares in these times do not fallout to be so kindly and hot to ripen the Grape to make any good wine as formerly they have done." But this is a mere assertion, and I believe it not to be true. I have little doubt that quite as good wine could now be made in England as ever was made, and wine is still made every year in many old-fashioned farmhouses. But foreign wines can now be produced much better and much cheaper, and that has caused the cessation of the English Vineyards. It is true that French and Spanish wines were introduced into England very early, but it must have been in limited quantities, and at a high price. When the quantities increased and the price was lowered, it was well to give up the cultivation of the Vine for some more certain crop better suited to the soil and the climate, for it must always have been a capricious and uncertain crop. Hakluyt was one who was very anxious that England should supply herself with all the necessaries of life without dependence on foreign countries, yet, writing in Shakespeare's time, he says: "It is sayd that since we traded to Zante, that the plant that beareth the Coren is also broughte into this realme from thence, and although it bring not fruit to perfection, yet it may serve for pleasure, and for some use, like as our Vines doe which we cannot well spare, although the climat so colde will not permit us to have good wines of them" ("Voiages, &c.," vol. ii. p. 166). Parkinson says to the same effect: "Many have adventured to make Vineyards in England, not only in these later days but in ancient times, as may well witness the sundry places in this land, entituled by the name of Vineyards, and I have read that many monasteries in this kingdom having Vineyards had as much wine made therefrom as sufficed their convents year by year, but long since they have been destroyed, and the knowledge how to order a Vineyard is also utterly perished with them. For although divers both nobles and gentlemen have in these later times endeavoured to plant and make Vineyards, and to that purpose have caused Frenchmen, being skilfull in keeping and dressing Vines, to be brought over to perform it, yet either their skill faileth them or their Vines were not good, or (the most likely) the soil was not fitting, for they could never make any wine that was worth the drinking, being so small and heartlesse, that they soon gave over their practise."

There is no need to say anything of the modern culture of the Vine, or its many excellent varieties. Even in Virgil's time the varieties cultivated were so many that he said—

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